


Two Guys, One Microphone

by L_Y



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ, JYJ (Band)
Genre: A little bit of angst, Anal Fingering, Canon Compliant, Crack, Drinking, Drunken Shenanigans, First Time Bottoming, Fluff, M/M, Object Insertion, Smut, some other idols are mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:55:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27695909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_Y/pseuds/L_Y
Summary: Yunho is feeling sad and lonely and calls Junsu, but ends up with a lot more than he expected.An early Christmas present for myself. :)
Relationships: Jung Yunho (DBSK)/Kim Junsu (JYJ)
Kudos: 11





	Two Guys, One Microphone

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know what came over me. I’m… sorry? But not really?

Looking back at it, Yunho was not sure how it had happened. Maybe it had something to do with Changmin’s marriage which had considerably lessened the time his younger band member spent with him. Moreover, it was a painful reminder of his own loneliness and the ruthless march of time that added a year after year to his age, surly and unwaveringly. Or maybe it was the weather, dark and cold and lonely, despite the colourful Christmas lights and the occasional snow. Yunho had always loved December, with its decorations and overall merriness and the wonderful contrast between black sky and white snow, but for the last three years it had felt somewhat… suffocating.

Oh the irony.

His first thought – still, after all these years – was to call Jaejoong. But something made him hesitate. Yes, Jaejoong would have probably talked to him, consoled him, maybe even tried to reason with him, but he was not in the mood for logical reasoning. Changmin gave him enough of that. Besides, if Jaejoong was not too busy and if he wanted to see Yunho and _if_ he was in Korea at all, the meeting would have most possibly ended with both of them drunk as fuck and crying about their old age.

Or rather _Jaejoong_ crying about his old age while Yunho would be doing his best to not pass out from the sheer amount of alcohol consumed. He knew better than to drink with Jaejoong. Even if the older man would probably cook him an amazing dinner and afterwards make him the best hangover soup Yunho had ever eaten.

No, he had to stop thinking of Jaejoong’s food or he would become sentimentally nostalgic on top of everything else.

Heechul was another option and even more logical one than Jaejoong, because Yunho hung out with him a lot more. But meeting up with him posed the same problems as meeting with Jaejoong, only without the added bonus of a delicious home-cooked meal.

And Heechul had a _girlfriend_. Yunho scrunched his nose. Way to make him feel even more desperate.

Yunho sighed. Yoochun was out of question, he had enough of his own problems and did not need to hear about Yunho’s early midlife crisis or whatever it was. Also, he had not spoken with Yoochun for a very long time and it would have been weird to call him out of blue.

Which left him with…

Junsu.

Truth be told, he had not spoken with Junsu for many years as well. Their last proper conversation had been – Yunho had to think – about ten years ago. During the time when the legal battle between JYJ and SM had begun to reach its peak. It had not been a happy conversation, but at least it had ended on relatively friendly terms.

And Junsu had been one of his oldest friends in the entertainment industry. They had lived together for a while. They shared some similar interests. Junsu had been a great listener then, never judging him or asking too many questions. Yunho was sure he was still the same. There were some things that did not change with time.

Also, Junsu had this ever-present cheerful air around him, both energetic and calming at once. And his laughter… Yunho felt his own mouth curving in a gentle smile when he remembered Junsu’s bright loud cackle. They used to call his laughter ‘eukyangkyang’, which made Junsu complain that he did not laugh like this, and, in turn, start to laugh even more.

There had been a time when Yunho had seriously thought that his affection for Junsu ran deeper than normal friendship. And there had also been a time when it had seemed to him that he was not the only one of them thinking like that. But then DBSK had debuted and with it had come the all-consuming YunJae and YooSu hype and Yunho’s confusing thoughts had slipped to the back of his mind.

Maybe it was one of the reasons why he did not have a proper, long-time girlfriend yet. Changmin sometimes made ambiguous remarks about his sexuality and as much as Yunho brushed them aside as jokes, he had to admit that the younger man could be scarily perceptive.

Yunho sighed one more time, took his phone and dialled Junsu’s number. It was not the one he had had ten years ago, but Jaejoong had generously updated Yunho, in order he wanted to ‘have a chat or whatever’.

Only when Junsu answered his call with a slightly confused ‘hello’, did Yunho understand that he had absolutely no idea what to tell Junsu.

Junsu, sweet Junsu, listened his fumbling explanations without any interruption.

“You can come to my place, hyung,” he said finally, when Yunho had run out of words. “I’m in the studio right now, but I’ll be done after an hour.”

Yunho did not want to be alone for another hour.

“Where’s the studio?” he asked Junsu. “Are you there on your own?”

Junsu laughed, his voice as bright and husky as it had been ten years ago, and sent him an address.

Yunho had to wait until Junsu had finished. He was recording backing vocals for a concert version of one of his new songs. There was a guy behind the mixing board whom Yunho did not know and who sent him a questioning glance. Yunho smiled politely, feeling awkward all of a sudden. He gave Junsu a little wave through the glass wall that Junsu eagerly returned, and sat on the couch next to the door. There were two coats thrown carelessly over the back of the couch, a couple of empty coffee cups scattered over the seat and next to them a microphone, slipped between two cushions.

Yunho took the microphone and twirled it in his hands, watching Junsu at the same time. Junsu was beautiful when he was singing, completely immersed in music. His voice was barely heard through the thick glass panel between them, but Yunho had listened him enough to conjure up the sound in his mind. Junsu’s singing had become a lot better over the years. And he had already been good to begin with.

Sometimes Yunho was almost jealous. Almost, because it was impossible to be actually jealous for Junsu. He was too lovely for it. And he absolutely deserved everything he had achieved. Even if Junsu was not in DBSK any more, Yunho was proud of him.

Finally Junsu came out of the recording booth, a little tired, but cheerful nonetheless. He hugged Yunho, offered him one of his achingly bright smiles and waved the other guy goodbye. Then he threw the coffee cups into the thrash can and pulled Yunho down to sit with him on the couch.

“So, hyung,” he said, “before we go to my place, tell me once again and a little more clearly, what’s wrong.”

Yunho played with the microphone he was still holding and tried to mentally sort out the mess of his emotions to explain it to Junsu. It sounded silly, now when he thought about it. Or was there any actual problem at all? He opened his mouth two times, but closed it again, not knowing where to start.

“Hyung?” Junsu prompted. “It’s alright. Just tell me.”

“I’m old,” Yunho blurted, not daring to look Junsu in the eye. “And… and I brought soju.”

An hour – and almost two bottles – later they were still in the same studio room and Yunho was feeling a lot better. He was not sure what Junsu had just said, but it had sounded funny and they were both laughing at it. Junsu had wrinkles around his eyes while laughing and even when he stopped, the wrinkles did not go fully away, but left behind a shadow, a few paper-thin lines on the otherwise smooth skin. It was comforting, somehow, that he was not alone in this horrible process of growing older.

Yunho actually had two more bottles in his bag, but he was sure that more alcohol would not be a good idea right now. He had drank a lot more than Junsu, anyway. Changmin or Jaejoong would have probably considered one and a half bottles only a modest start, but Yunho was quite a lightweight. And Junsu simply never drank enough to get drunk for real.

“Why do you have a microphone in the studio?” Yunho asked when Junsu had recovered from his laughing fit.

“Why do I have a microphone?” Junsu looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “To sing into it, duh.”

“No, not the studio microphone.” Yunho lifted up the microphone in question and waved it in front of Junsu’s face. “This one.”

“Ah.” Junsu shrugged. “Don’t know. Someone has probably lost it here.”

Yunho nodded and stuck the microphone under Junsu’s nose. “Sing something.”

Junsu let out a short giggle and sang the opening lines of _Pit a Pat_. His voice was surprisingly stable and in tune, considering his current predicament. But then again, he was The Kim Junsu and that was probably enough of an explanation.

“More,” Yunho demanded, touching Junsu’s lips with the microphone. Junsu had a nice voice.

Junsu went a little cross-eyed when he tried to look at the microphone Yunho was almost showing into his face. But instead of singing he stuck out his tongue, threw Yunho a mischievous glance and gave the microphone a long lick, all over the metallic head.

Yunho wanted to say ‘eww’ or something similar, but the connection between his brain and mouth was not the strongest at the moment. So, instead of a disgusted sound, he heard himself saying, “Bet you can’t fit it in your mouth.”

Junsu’s expression turned challenging, his lips curving in a sharp smile and eyes glinting dangerously. Without saying anything, he grabbed Yunho’s wrist and brought the microphone closer to his mouth. Then he opened his mouth as wide as possible and pressed the head of the microphone in. His lips closed around the black handle with a triumphant hum.

“Wow,” Yunho uttered, his thumb tracing Junsu’s lips that were stretched obscenely over the handle. “Sexy.”

Junsu huffed out a muffled laugh and opened his mouth again.

“See? I can fit it anywhere I want to.”

Yunho raised an eyebrow at him. “ _Anywhere_?”

Junsu nodded, still laughing.

Yunho’s mouth really belonged to a different person tonight, because it felt as if he was observing himself from the side when his lips moved without thinking.

“Bet you can’t fit it in your ass.”

Junsu’s rapidly changing expressions were fascinating to watch. His laughter stopped with a comical squeak, his mouth fell open and his eyes grew wide as he was staring Yunho like a deer in headlights. His left hand was still squeezing Yunho’s wrist. And the microphone in question was right in front of his face, its head glistening with spit.

Yunho already opened his mouth to apologise or tell that he was only joking, but Junsu beat him at it.

“I…” he started and then grew silent. “I’ve actually… ah, never mind.”

Yunho felt his curiosity pique. “You’ve actually what?”

Junsu blushed and let go of Yunho’s wrist. “It’s a stupid thought.”

“No, it’s not.” Yunho put the microphone away and crowded closer to Junsu. “I came here with my stupid non-existent problems and you listened me without saying anything bad. Whatever it is in your mind, it’s not stupid.”

Junsu drew in a shaky breath and let it out again. He was quiet for a long moment.

“Remember when the fans used to ship us?” he finally asked. Yunho gave him an encouraging nod.

“You were paired up with Jaejoong-hyung and I with Yoochun.” Junsu snorted. “And Changmin with food.”

Yunho chuckled shortly. “He even said at one point that the fridge is his wife. Did you know it? I warned his then-fiancée before their wedding that she will always be a third wheel in this relationship, but she didn’t listen to me and they ended up marrying anyway.”

Junsu laughed, bright and shrill. His laughter seemed to be frozen in time, never growing older. Sometimes it had some deeper undertones Yunho had not heard before, but when Junsu truly lost himself, it sounded exactly as it had been ten years ago. Or fifteen. Or since Junsu had had a voice break.

“So, what about shipping?”

Junsu’s laughter faded into a tiny embarrassed chuckle. “I… well… one time… it was many years ago actually… doesn’t matter…”

Yunho listened him patiently.

“It was during a concert, I guess. In Tokyo, maybe. Anyway, after my solo, at backstage, Jaejoong-hyung said that the most real ship in the history of JYJ and DBSK has always been me and a microphone. And then Yoochun made a joke about… about the microphone being the top in this relationship and…”

Junsu’s cheeks were bright red by now.

“I just…” he continued, his voice reduced to a mere whisper, “I just began to wonder how… how it would feel. It was only a joke at first, but… do you know, hyung, how does it feel when some stupid joke is stuck in your head and you can’t do anything but think of it?”

Yunho was silent. Yes, he knew very well how did it feel, because right now everything he could think about was Junsu’s ass, his glorious, plump, perfectly round ass – and the microphone pressing into his hole, the rim stretching around the handle, just as Junsu’s lips had done before. The mere imagination did funny things to his body.

“Hyung?” Junsu’s voice sounded nervous and so very small.

Yunho swallowed, his tongue suddenly feeling too big for his mouth. “Did you… did you try it?”

“What?!”

Yunho had to swallow again, because his throat was uncomfortably dry. “Did you only think of it or did you actually try it out? With… with the microphone, I mean?”

Junsu quickly shook his head. “No, never, I’d never do such a thing.”

“Do you want to?”

“Hyung, are you making fun of me?”

Yunho looked at Junsu again. The younger had shifted as far from him as the couch allowed, the smaller cushions serving as a protective wall between them. He was gnawing at his lip and watching Yunho with a frightened expression.

Yunho did not want Junsu to be afraid. He especially did not want Junsu to be afraid of him.

“Look, Junsu-ah,” he said, trying to make his mouth co-operate with his brain at once. “Everyone of us has some weird fantasies. The fact that they’re weird doesn’t mean that they’re bad. Some people like food porn. Some have a foot fetish. You want to shove a microphone into your ass. As long as you aren’t hurting anyone against their will, you should be fine.”

Junsu did not say anything. He only drew a deep breath and waited for Yunho to continue.

“I…” Yunho shook his head and coughed uncomfortably. “Please don’t get me wrong, Junsu – I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to –, but I… ah… well, the idea sounds pretty hot for me.”

Junsu’s breath hitched.

“Hyung,” he finally said, his voice soft and careful, “do you think that the idea of me having a microphone stuck into my ass is hot?”

Yunho squeezed his eyes shut and nodded.

And then Junsu laughed. He fell forwards, hit Yunho’s thigh repeatedly and cackled right into his ear.

Yunho turned his eyes at the younger with an incredulous look. “Junsu, what…”

“Oh, hyung,” Junsu wheezed. “What are we waiting for? Let’s do it!”

Looking back at it, Yunho really was not sure how it had happened, but here he was, with Junsu bent over the studio desk and Yunho three fingers deep in his ass. They had found lube from the top drawer and Junsu had laughed and said that some celebrities he knew used the studio as a meeting place. Yunho knew the drill. If two singers who were not from the same band checked into the same hotel at the same time, the fans were bound to find out. It was a lot easier when at least one person had their own place, because the dorms were usually out of question, but with the idols’ hectic lifestyle and conflicting schedules, it was often difficult to find time for a proper date. So the studios had to do.

Right now Yunho was thankful of the fact, because it meant that they had lube. And he got to watch Junsu turning into a shuddering mess. The younger’s shirt was hitched up to his armpits, his bare back flushed pink and shining with sweat under the bright electric lights of the studio. His ass was exactly as round as Yunho had remembered, and he had not been able to resist the temptation of spanking it for a couple of times. Junsu had moaned at that and asked him to ‘please, fuck, hurry up, hyung’.

Junsu’s ass had been a tight fit at first, Yunho barely able to squeeze one finger inside, but now he was nice and stretched out, the red rim fluttering around Yunho’s fingers and glistening with lube. Yunho twisted his fingers, aiming for Junsu’s prostate. Junsu let out a loud shout, his body going rigid for a second and hands grabbing the desk tighter. A big drop of pre-come formed on the tip of his yet untouched cock and fell on the floor with a quiet plop. Yunho cursed breathily, the tightness in his jeans past the point of comfortable for a long time by now.

“Hyung,” Junsu moaned, his voice that was already naturally breathy now sounding downright wrecked. “I… ah… can you…”

“One more finger,” Yunho assured him. “The microphone is quite large.”

Junsu groaned and let his head drop on his forearms. It accentuated the sensual curve of his back and made his ass stick out even more. Yunho gulped and drizzled more lube around his fingers.

“Have you done anything like this before?” he asked Junsu, his own voice rumbling low in his chest, and started pressing the pinky finger in.

Junsu keened, high and long. His whole body shook and his knees threatened to buckle. Sweat was running down his back.

“So- oh! – sometimes,” he mewled. “My own fingers… are not so good… aah! Don’t… fuck… don’t reach so deep…”

Yunho let out an almost animalistic growl. The pressure on his own cock was unbearable by now, so he used his free hand to open the button and zipper of his jeans. Without thinking, he pulled the jeans lower and fished his cock out of his boxers, hissing with relief.

“Have you put anything else in there? More than your fingers?”

Junsu only panted and moaned. Yunho stilled his hand and repeated the question.

“No,” Junsu gasped when Yunho’s words finally registered. “No- nothing else… only my fingers.”

“Fuck,” Yunho groaned and pushed further with more force. Junsu screamed at that and went still for a long moment. Yunho already thought that the other had come, but then a shiver ran through Junsu and he slumped forward on the desk. His mouth was half-open, drool dripping onto the tabletop.

“Hyung,” he pleaded when he had found his voice again, “I’m going to… oh, fuck… I’m going to come soon…”

Yunho took a deep breath and pulled his fingers out carefully. Junsu whimpered at the uncomfortable feeling, his hole clenching around air.

“Are you ready?” Yunho whispered. “Ready for your virginity to be taken?”

Junsu gasped. “Not… not a virgin.”

Yunho actually laughed at that. “Okay, a half-virgin. Since no-one has fucked you. _Yet_.”

Junsu pressed his face against the desk and moaned, low and desperate.

“Please,” he breathed, his voice only a ragged whisper. “Please, hyung, please…”

Yunho took the microphone and coated the handle liberally with lube. His hands were shaking and his cock felt like bursting at any moment.

“Think about it,” he rasped while pressing the slightly narrower tip against Junsu’s rim, “The first one to ever fuck you is a _microphone_. If only the fans knew…”

“Hyung!” Junsu cried out. “Please!”

Yunho decided to have mercy on him. Or on himself? With his hands still shaking, he pushed the tip of the handle stronger against Junsu’s quivering hole and rotated the microphone a little. Junsu’s body gave, the tip slipped in and Junsu himself let out another wrecked moan. His hips twitched and pushed back, trying to get as much of the microphone inside as possible.

“Careful,” Yunho warned him, placing a hand on the small of Junsu’s back to keep him from taking too much too quickly. “It’s getting wider. Don’t… fuck… don’t hurt yourself.”

Holding the microphone by the head, Yunho started pushing the handle inside. Junsu was gone with pleasure. He trashed and shivered in Yunho’s hold, sobbing from the tightness and at the same time asking him to hurry up. His rim slowly stretched wider and his knees were shaking so hard that the desk was the only thing still holding him up.

Finally the sleek black handle was fully inside Junsu and only the metallic head was peeking out from between his ass cheeks. It looked like a very strange buttplug.

Yunho let the microphone go for a moment, in order to stroke himself. Junsu was not the only one on the verge of coming. His own cock was so hard that it ached.

“Hyung,” Junsu moaned, shifting his hips. Yunho positioned himself better behind Junsu and grabbed the microphone with one hand, holding his cock with the other. He started with slow and deep thrusts, timing them with the strokes on his own raging erection. The lube in Junsu’s ass made a squelching sound, some of it slowly trickling down his thighs.

It did not take long. With one particularly hard thrust Junsu tensed up one more time, fingers scrabbling to get a hold of the desk, and came completely untouched, mouth opened in a soundless cry. Ropes of white burst from his cock, staining the underside of the desk and the floor below. Then he slumped onto the tabletop again and laid there, twitching and whimpering, the microphone still inside him.

“Fuck, Junsu,” Yunho groaned. He was holding the younger down with one hand, so that he would not slide off the desk, and fisting himself furiously with his other hand. “I’m… ugh… I’m coming… can I…”

Junsu turned his head a little and glanced at Yunho from under his wet lashes.

“Fuck, yes,” he moaned weakly, when it occurred to him what Yunho was trying to ask. “Come… come all over me, hyung.”

Yunho did not need any further encouragement. With a punched-out cry he came, painting Junsu’s ass and back white.

The clean-up was rather awkward, the attempts to not look the other in the eye painfully obvious. But when Junsu’s backside and the desk and floor were wiped relatively clean and they were properly dressed again, Junsu suddenly crowded into Yunho’s personal space.

“Hyung,” he asked nervously, “we’re not going to be weird about this, are we?”

Yunho shook his head slowly, a lot more sober than before.

“I…” He gulped and looked to the side. It was better to be honest and open with Junsu. Yunho knew from a very painful experience how far could things go if not talked through properly, if both sides were left with their prejudices and one-sided opinions. “I… kind of… liked it? A lot?”

The corner of Junsu’s mouth twitched. “Yeah?”

Yunho nodded. “Yeah. So, if you want some… no, forget it.”

But Junsu did not let him go. “If I want some what? Hyung?”

Yunho let out a nervous laughter. “If you find another sexy microphone and… and want a repeat of tonight, you can let me know.”

Junsu’s smile grew, turning into something Yunho had only seen from the videos of Junsu’s musical performances. It was the smile Death sent to Elisabeth, the predatory grin with which Dracula tried to seduce Mina… and it was working, oh dear, it was working.

“I’ll let you know,” Junsu promised, his voice low and husky. “And if I should find some other sexy thing I want inside me, I’ll let you know as well.”

Yunho could only nod again and swallow thickly. And then Junsu pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt, rose on tiptoes and pressed his lips onto Yunho’s. They were dangerously soft and warm. But instead of dying from sheer happiness, Yunho felt more alive than he had remembered being for a long time.


End file.
